Sabor Dulce
by LittleMissAfflicted
Summary: Anything laced with even a whisper of a demon's most desired meal is sure to satisfy. Or so Ciel discovers. Quick one-shot.


**(**Sabor Dulce means sweet taste in Spanish. That is all.**)**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Sebastian or Ciel. I did own that cake at one point, though.

**AN:** Random quickie in an attampt to shake writer's block. I have plans to begin a long fic soon, but I have to find that certain... **gusto**.

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"My Lord, your afternoon tea."

My one exposed eye fails to rise from the stack of documents I am currently reviewing. I don't have to look. I have seen this scene play out so many times that it no longer phases me in the least.

I know Sebastian is there, at the doorway of the office. I know he's bowed the way I expect of him, though somehow managing to add his own mocking flair to the gesture. I know he will stare at me for a moment. Perhaps let one of his unnerving smirks creep onto his face for reasons beyond my comprehension. And then he will come to my side, cart in tow, and pour my tea without spilling a single drop.

Typical.

There is only one thing that keeps the dreadfully repetitive ordeal mildly interesting, and that is when Sebastian begins to explain to me what he is about to serve. I never expect the same thing from him twice. He is a demon, certainly, but his deserts are absolutely delicious. Sinful, even. Yes, that word would suit a demon's cuisine perfectly, wouldn't it? I cough to hide the amused bark that would have left me otherwise.

"Today's tea is English Breakfast, Young Master. And for desert, there is a chocolate cake coated in ganache, with a vanilla crème center."

I stare at the piece of cake he's sliced and plated for me, and I can feel my mouth water a little bit. Just how can something so diabolical be responsible for something so heavenly and sweet? I quickly roll my eye and dismiss the thought. Another one of life's ironies that has no justification, so it is needless to waste time trying to compose an answer.

I pick up a shining silver spoon in my hand. It's been polished to perfection, probably by a nervous Mei Rin that has suffered from a threat or two in regards to meeting Sebastian's immaculate standards. I let it sink into the cake, scooping a decent portion, and bring it to my mouth. The flavors melt and blend together- the bittersweet tone of chocolate and the smooth, saccharine burst of vanilla- and I silently reach for another bite.

My way of saying I am enjoying it. Because if I were to say "It's good, Sebastian", I would be praising him, and praise is one of the many things I don't intend to give to a butler. Demon or otherwise.

"Young Master has always been so fond of sweets. I wonder if he will ever outgrow them, although at this stage it seems highly unlikely."

His voice, deep and velveteen, reaches my ears. Unfathomably irritating. His mockery never, ever ceases. Yet I can't help but respond to every taunt in kind.

"I will give up enjoying them as soon as you give up enjoying souls. How does _that_ sound?"

"It sounds as though neither one of us shall be giving anything up, Young Master."

His answer is truth slipping through a ravenous, starved mouth.

"Tch."

I do think he's come to interpret that sound as one of defeat. But he's wrong. Not defeat, more like a dismissal on my part. Playing these games and waging this war of words with him tires me.

I begin to wonder, though, about his idea of a satisfying meal. Are souls all a demon ever hungers for? Does Sebastian ever eat anything else, and enjoy it? I decide it would be interesting to find out for myself.

"Sebastian."

"Young Master?"

"Perhaps you should sample this cake yourself. It seems off somehow."

His bloody irises gleam somewhat, and I'm sure he knows that my reason for this request isn't so simple. In fact, it isn't a request, but an order made to sound as such. And it has never been simple, really.

"Are you certain?"

It's what he says, but defiance is churning beneath the façade he's forced to assume. What he wants to ask is how I came to such a conclusion. He wants to tell me that his hands yield only perfection, no matter what the craft. But butlers do not speak in such a manner, and neither shall he. Sebastian may have all of the deadly traits of a predator, but I am a prey of unique status, for I am one who has him tethered with collar and leash.

Do not bite the hand that feeds you? Funny, because although it is true for Sebastian, it is quite the opposite for me. He feeds me because he has no other choice, and if I should ever feel like sinking teeth into one of his gloved hands (though for what, I haven't the faintest clue), I am most welcome to do so.

"If I were not _certain_, I wouldn't ask, would I?"

"Of course not."

I expect him to turn and slice a minimal amount of the pastry for himself, but instead, he's leaning quite close. His crimson gaze is intense in this proximity, almost intimidating, and it stuns me. It's only for a very small fraction of time, but it is enough for Sebastian to swipe a now ungloved finger over the corner of my mouth, catching stray crumbs and crème. He puts the finger into his mouth and his tongue darts out to eat the sparse remnants.

"It tastes quite fine, in my own opinion, Young Master."

He lets the slick muscle lap at his lips when he finishes, not a single trace of shame on his face.

"Why in the hell did you just do that?"

I don't mean for my voice to sound shaky, but the shock- and fury- is burning on my face. This defiant creature, always testing my patience! I'm _angry_, because how he manages to infuriate me whenever I mean to do so to him, is something I've never been able to determine. Are all demons this _annoying_...?

"I did not want to waste a good portion of the Young Master's desert for something as simple as a taste-test."

"That's no excuse for _touching me_!"

"You are very right, Young Master. It slipped my mind. Forgive me."

"You-!"

He cuts me off with a rich chuckle that makes my skin prickle uneasily.

"I am not one for the food humans are so fond of, sweets the very least, but I must say that, mingled with the faint taste of the Young Master, that cake could not be any more palatable."

It becomes clear to me that a soul isn't the only thing that can appease a demon's taste. I'm sure that I don't want to know what else might.

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Ciel flavored cake anyone...?

Hope you enjoyed ;)


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